


Per Aspera Ad Astra

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Series: Took my Boat Down to Hotel Road [4]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, hotel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: Despite everything, the new Camelot sets its sights on victory.
Relationships: Bedivere/Kay (Arthurian), Dinadan/Palamedes, Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian), Galehaut/Lancelot du Lac, Gareth/Lynette, Gawain/Bertilak de Hautdesert, Isolde the Fair/Tristan (Arthurian), Lamorak/Agrivane
Series: Took my Boat Down to Hotel Road [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663936
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Taking Inventory

Dinadan was woken by a hit to the diaphragm. He gasped for air and tried to assess what was going on - _this is the DuLac's and there are almost thirty other people here why is this happening_ \- and was thankful his impulse was to assess rather than swing because it was Ingrid.

“Uncle Din!” she squealed, “Uncle Din I want cheeeeesee!” She was standing on his ribs and stomping her feet, impatient.

“Easy, easy kiddo,” he wheezed, “Hop on down and we can see about that cheese.”

“CHEESE!” she yelled as she jumped down to the floor.

“Oh my god, Dinadan, are you alright I am so sorry,” Tristan swore he'd just turned his back on her for a second, “Ingrid! What have I told you about being gentle?”

“But I want cheese!” she pouted.

“And she knows where to get cheese,” Dinadan managed a laugh as he sat up.

“Are you alright?” Tristan frowned as he watched the deliberate slowness with which Dinadan moved.

“As alright as I was this morning,” Dinadan answered honestly, “Now come on kiddo, let's go get you your cheese.”

“CHEESE!” Ingrid screamed as she grabbed Dinadan's hand and lead him towards the kitchen.

Dinadan walked slowly and on the balls of his feet to minimize the points of contact. What Morgan had been able to do in the immediate aftermath saw that he was walking when he absolutely needed to less than a week after, well, after everything, but the pain and damage were going to last a long, long time.

Lion padded behind them with equally tender steps.

Tristan bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to think too hard about what both Knight and dog had been willing to put themselves through to keep his daughter safe.

–

“Again!” Bedivere shouted at the small group he had gathered in the basement.

They were using broom and mop handles as quarterstaves and Bedivere was putting them through the paces of balancing, striking, and defending.

The handles, he figured, were weak when compared to any actual weapons, but it would be more effective to train with things likely to break. If nothing else, everyone would know how to keep themselves alive as long as possible with increasingly smaller wood and plastic fragments.

He hadn't slept except when his body crashed, the sounds of fire and Kay's screaming filling every moment of what little sleep he managed.

–

Galahad hadn't seen his father leave his room for more than taking care of the most base-level survival needs since the fire.

He wondered if Lancelot would ever rejoin them, if there was a way for him to genuinely carry on now that the King he had championed was dead and the Queen disappeared along with him.

He asked Galehaut as such.

“I wish I knew,” Galehaut hugged Galahad tight, “God, I wish I knew.”

–

Ingrid was sleeping with her head on Dinadan's chest while Dinadan laid on the couch, feet dangling off carefully while Palamedes applied salve on them. Lion slept next to them.

“Dinadan,” Tristan's voice held no good things.

“I did my best,” Dinadan told him.

“I know,” he said, “and that's why I wanted to ask if you'd be her godfather.”

“No,” Dinadan refused, “she has two perfectly good parents and she doesn't need a back-up.”

“That's just the thing,” Tristan's mouth was pulled in a tight, thin line, “what if, at the end of this all, she doesn't?”

Dinadan's eyes went cold to mask his terror.

“Din,” Palamedes said gently.

Dinadan forced himself to relax just enough to answer. “Then yes,” Dinadan said, “but so help me, I never want to be more than her uncle and godfather.”

Tristan agreed, heart and soul.

–

Agrivane brought Lancelot a mug of soup Kay had made for everyone who was still up. It was somewhere past one in the morning, and it was nearly everyone.

Lancelot was sitting up in bed, reading lamp on, but his eyes were so fixed it was obvious he wasn't reading.

“Hey,” Agrivane kept his voice quiet, knowing Galehaut wsa passed out next to Lancelot, “it's Kay's loaded potato soup.”

“Where does he even find time and energy to go to the store?” Lancelot closed his book.

What Agrivane heard just under that question was, _Doesn't he have the right to mourn as I am? The need to mourn?_

“Somewhere between Bedivere's weapons training, Mordred's war councils, and Ingrid's demands for cheese,” Agrivane answered.

“Mordred's holding war councils?” This was the first Lancelot had heard of it.

“He's doing his best,” Agrivane handed the soup to Lancelot, “Kay just kind of invites himself in to whatever he can find and starts talking, or working, or cooking. Or cutting up cheese.”

Lancelot almost managed a laugh, “Ingrid sounds like she's helping everyone.”

“And she has no idea,” the corners of Agrivane's mouth tugged into a smile.

“How's everyone recovering?” Lancelot asked as he took a sip of the soup.

“It's still hot,” Agrivane cautioned. Lancelot nodded but sipped anyways. “I can't tell how much Kay's burns are bothering him. Dinadan still isn't walking if he doesn't have to. Same with Lion. Elyan's arm and shoulder don't have anywhere near the full range of motion. Everyone who had smoke inhalation is still shaking off the worst of it. Seems like Ragnelle, Gawain, Percival, and Yvain all took some sort of debris-related damage, but they won't talk about it.”

Lancelot frowned, a thing directed at his soup because he couldn't bear to look up.

“How's your leg?” Agrivane asked.

“If I never see another fucking cactus in my life I might forgive the entire species,” Lancelot muttered, “but, Morgan was able to negate most of the muscle damage. Still can't put much weight on it. Why's Kay making soup this late?”

“Same reason we're almost all still up,” Lamorak sat down on the floor and looked up at Lancelot, “sleep is worse, somehow.”

“I just don't know how to go back out there,” Lancelot's hands started shaking, then the rest of him, “I was _right there_ when it all happened and the Merlin bested us all with a fucking kitchen knife.”

“I fear, quite often, that you and Kay are both going to spend the rest of this life – and however many come after this one – blaming yourselves for Arthur's death,” Agrivane told him, “I could offer you platitudes and assurances until I run out of words I know – which wouldn't take nearly as long if, like, Dinadan tried – but in the end I know they don't help in the way you need them to.”

Agrivane took the soup from Lancelot and set it on his nightstand before he spilled it.

“Thanks,” Lancelot muttered.

In his sleep, Galehaut rolled over and swung an arm across Lancelot's lap.

“I love you,” Lancelot muttered to Galehaut, who made a pleased noise, tightened his grip, and remained asleep. He turned back to Agrivane. “Mordred picked well, you know?”

“I don't,” Agrivane let out a self-depreciating laugh that cut itself off abruptly, “I mean, I have faith in him that he knows what he needs to do, but me? Me, really? There are dozens of better choices.”

“Honestly,” Lancelot sighed, “I felt the same way, when Arthur chose me?”

“You?” Agrivane said louder than he meant to, “You were known across Kingdoms for being the best example of both Knight and Champion the world had to offer.”

“It never felt like that,” Lancelot shook his head, “not once. I did my best – until the very, very end – but it never felt like my best was good enough.”

“Arthur loved you something fierce,” Agrivane said, “and everyone else looked to you to lead.”

“It still never felt like enough,” Lancelot squeezed Galehaut's arm for comfort, “Fuck, Agrivane, I miss him. Not as my King. As Arthur.”

“I cannot know the depth of it like you do,” Agrivane reached out a hand and Lancelot took it and squeezed, “but your pain is more than understandable.”

Lancelot had no idea how badly he needed to hear that.

–

Bors was sleeping on the table again.

This time, he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the latest makeshift war council meeting, and the rest of the group was setting papers and books and assorted scraps of paper on him rather than trying to move him.

Mordred had managed to wrangle as many details as he could out of the others – from what the fire felt like to what it felt like going through each portal to how much and what kinds of magic they can do, can feel, to the way Morgan's healing efforts had helped their recovery – with as much care as he could.

It was time to assemble the information he had so he could try to see where they needed to go next.

“What doesn't make sense,” Morgan had been able to join them, at least for this particular morning, “is why we had DAYS of warning the first time, but were completely blind-sided the second time.”

“Maybe it's different,” Yvain offered, “I mean, the same sort of corrupted magics, but it just _borrowed_ the souls of the Merlin, Lot, and Morgause to rattle us much worse than had we been faced with three unfamiliar faces.”

“I hate every word of that,” Dinadan bristled, “but it has merit.”

“To a point,” Morgan crossed her arms, “The Merlin was absolutely recognizable the second time, but not the first.”

“What if it wasn't the Merlin at all,” Galahad suggested, “but something using what was left of him after all his magics had gotten sucked out of him to fuck with us?”

“Still hate every word of that,” Dinadan shivered.

“Also,” Morgan looked at Dinadan, “your magics, they didn't register _at all_ and we keep a close eye on any magics connected to Camelot because we were hoping to avoid this whole thing.”

“To avoid it would have meant sacrificing yourselves,” Gawain pointed out, “and now it would include myself and, apparently, Guinevere as well.”

“It would have been a risk,” Morgan acknowledged, “and the first time we were expressly forbidden from trying to engage in combat.”

“And the second time?” Mordred looked up from the scraps of paper he was arranging.

“The second time War had been declared,” Morgan uncrossed her arms, “A War amongst the gods takes the bars off a lot of otherwise hard-and-fast rules.”

“Rules like what?” Galehaut asked.

Morgan sighed. “Well, first of all elder gods haven't been able to interact directly with humans since the fall of Olympus. Second, the ability to give direct information without hiding it under layers and layers of trick words. Countless others that would require their own informational sessions on if you really wanted every single one of them.”

“I will admit we likely don't have time to go every every rule that no longer applies,” Mordred ran his hands down his face, “I wish I knew how to plan for a War against an enemy inherently older, stronger, and more well-equipped.”

The sound of a throat being cleared in the kitchen doorway pulled everyone's attention towards it.

“Well,” Lancelot was leaning on the doorway, injured leg completely off the ground, “I would suggest starting with what we do have rather than what we don't.”

The exhaustion and grief lines on Lancelot's face ran deep, deeper than befit a man of his age and station. His shoulders were dropped, almost hunched forward.

But Agrivane met Lancelot's eyes and saw echoes of the Champion and General who'd stood beside King Arthur in hundreds of battles.

“So,” Agrivane said to Mordred while still looking at Lancelot, “let's get a cohesive inventory going.”


	2. It's Time to Toss the Darts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old faces, new fears.

Kay's makeshift quarterstaff came down hard on Bedivere's upper arm. Bedivere hissed and winced back.

“Shit, sorry,” Kay steadied his brook handle.

“No, no,” Bedivere waved his concern off, “If you're _taking it easy on me_ and able to land a hit when you're even more exhausted than I am, I don't stand a chance in actual combat.”

“I hate that you're right,” Kay grimaced.

They'd taken to sparring late at night and early in the mornings when they had the basement to themselves. Despite how well everyone else who was training was progressing, they were still faster and harder-hitters, and they needed _space_ to spar without taking the everyone else and then walls down as well.

Bedivere took a deep breath.

“Again,” he told Kay,

Kay didn't pull his swings this time.

–

Dinadan was lying on his side, reading something one of the Orkney lot had left on the coffee table with Chase lying on him and Stardancer napping on the back of the couch.

“They like you,” Yvain noted.

“They know I give the tiny child cheese, and they also know the tiny child drops cheese,” Dinadan used his thumb as a bookmark.

“Tiny child is currently at the park,” Yvain pointed out, “I think they just like you.”

“As long as you don't ask me to take care of them as a gods-forbid,” Dinadan feared that was where this conversation was headed, “I've already been charged with a tiny child. I cannot handle thinking about losing anyone else this week.”

Yvain's face fell. “I kind of figured they'd pick on their own,” he admitted, “but more than cheese, I think they like how calm you've been able to stay despite everything.”

“What if was my magics that set up a single flare?” Dinadan put the book back on the coffee table without noting the page number, “Like, the first time we can almost for-sure say it was the three questions thing, but this time? Everything else present from the portals to the play fights we've done between A and B. Everything except. Well.”

“You said you've done your magic before,” Yvain pointed out.

“But never around anyone else,” Dinadan argued, “What if only certain magics can be traced and whoever wants us all dead can trace magics that Morgan can't?”

“What?” Yvain didn't follow.

“Morgan said she couldn't feel my magics at all,” Dinadan explained, “and only knew about them because they were in Mordred's notes.”

“The first-first time they missed completely,” Yvain reminded him, “and burned down another building first.”

“Hmn,” Dinadan frowned and shifted. Chase protested by stretching one front paw forward to clock Dinadan in the ear, a very clear _hold still_ gesture, “It's so much easier when I can blame myself.”

“Is that how you stay so calm?” Yvain asked.

“Maybe?” Dinadan resisted the urge to shrug in exchange for not receiving another paw to the face, “I figure, whatever's coming is going to come. I already have so little energy, cannot train at this point, and am really only going to be useful in the war room. I'd like to save as much as I can for that.”

“Too exhausted to worry,” Yvain shook his head, “What you did for Ingrid, Din, that was amazing.”

“I did what I had to,” Dinadan looked up at him, “She's a _child_ who didn't ask to be a part of this, can't understand what's going on, nonetheless the risks associated with it. I **had to** get her out of there. Besides, I got to ride a horse part of the way. If anyone put in a lot of dedication, it was Lion. Who's also at the park.”

“He loves that kid,” Yvain said, a fondness touching his words, “Safest kid in the world between you and Lion.”

“Mabon said something similar,” Dinadan's brows furrowed.

Yvain shrugged. “Anyways, I'm thinking of starting a lunch order soon. Did you have any preferences?”

“Oh please not pizza again?” Dinadan whined, “I am so tired of pizza.”

Yvain found he agreed.

–

“A proposal,” Gaheris stuck his head into the war room, “tonight we actually go out for dinner.”

“I do think I need to see the inside of another building,” Mordred agreed, “What were you thinking?”

Gaheris grinned.

“Oh fuck it's darts isn't it?” Agrivane huffed. Gaheris nodded and left.

–

Gaheris had managed to wrangle Mordred, Galahad, Gawain, Bertilak, Ellie, Isolde, and Lynette for dinner and darts.

“Oh no there's twice as many,” the poor server said when he saw Gawain leading the pack.

“They'll behave,” the bartender called out.

“Well aren't you lot popular,” Lynette teased.

“You have no idea,” Agrivane muttered.

“Hold,” Bertilak's single-word command stopped everyone in their tracks, “Gawain, when was the last time you were here?”

“Uh,” Gawain blinked a few times, “A few months? Why?”

“Just a moment,” Bertilak walked over to the bar, leaving everyone else – including the server – frozen in palce.

Bertilak leaned over and everyone else as the bartender leaned in as well so they could exchange rushed, hushed words. Bertilak pulled back with a grim expression and a nod so brief it looked more like a spasm.

Bertilak took a seat at an empty table with enough surrounding empty tables and chairs for the others and waved them others.

“So uh,” Gawain said as he sat on Bertilak's lap, “wanna tell me what that was about?”

“Later,” Bertilak told him. Gawain made an unhappy noise but didn't press the matter any further.

“So uh,” the server looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, “I know what three of you want, but did the rest of you want menus?”

“Please?” Ellie asked.

–

They played darts until last call, and then promised to be out at the end of the round.

“Can we, uh,” Agrivane was still refusing to play, “we can take it back home?”

“We could,” Bertilak agreed.

“Go home,” the bartender told the server, “I'll see them out.”

“But my shift -”

“I sign your time cards,” he reminded him, “Go home.”

“Thank you,” the server said and left before the permission to leave early was rescinded.

“It's just us now,” the bartender turned around as soon as the door closed behind the server.

“You make everyone think you're dead for a fucking millennia,” Bertilak tapped Gawain's hips to tell him to stand up.

“Like the others didn't,” the bartender countered, “I did what everyone else did – tried to survive.”

“Not all of us went into hiding,” Bertilak was on his feet.

“Uh,” Gawain did not like the look of everything about to happen.

“Oh come on we like it here,” Gaheris whined.

“Stop!” Mordred commanded, a little too much force behind the command.

_Everything_ stopped.

“Ah crap,” Mordred looked around, “what have I done?”

–

Mordred had no idea how long everyone had been frozen. He kept pulling out his phone to check the time only to remember that it, too, was frozen.

He started moving things around to see how far his ability to move and freeze things again extended.

“Wait a second,” he said aloud and then chuckled. He put a hand on Agrivane's shoulder and focused. Agrivane startled.

“What the fuck?” he asked as he looked around.

“I fucked up,” Mordred said, “and have no idea what to do.”

“Well how did you isolate me?” Agrivane asked, “Do that again, but bigger.”

“This is why you're my advisor,” Mordred told him.

–

Lugh, everyone else learned the bartender was called by his fellow gods, had been there when the very thing they were facing broke loose.

“I was next to the epicenter,” Lugh shivered, “I though it would be safe, this land which never had any love for gods that did not change and shift with time and magic, and I was right until this lot walked through the door.”

Bertilak's anger had not dissipated, but Mordred threatened to freeze him specifically and have as many people as they needed carry him like a statue if he insisted on a less-than-civil order of operations.

“Besides,” Gaheris had added, “he's not saying watching two gods get into a fight _isn't_ an option.”

Agrivane pinched the bridge of his nose and just left the pressure there for the sake of his own head.

“Where were you when the tower burned?” Bertilak asked, “Where were you when the forest burned and the final guard changed?”

“Here,” Lugh replied, “as I have been for a long time.”

“Final guard?” Galahad asked,

“This is all a lot and I'm sorry I insisted we go out,” Gaheris was hunched in on himself.

“Whoa, hey,” Agrivane was beside Gaheris in an instant, “this may yet be a good thing, okay?”

“None of this feels like a good thing,” Gaheris pouted. Agrivane hugged Gaheris close.

Gawain glared at Bertilak, a warning to _fix this_ before Gaheris got even more upset.

He was, in the end, ultimately going to side with his brothers.

“Will you fight, this time?” Bertilak asked.

Lugh closed his eyes a=for a moment.

“Yes,” Lugh said as he opened them again.

“Good,” Bertilak said.

“Why?” Galahad asked, “Why now, when not before?”

“Because,” Lugh turned to the Knight, “I fear this may be the last time any of us get to try to fight at all.”


	3. Dissenter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of talking happens but it's not for much in terms of results.

Percival and Gareth were seated on the kitchen counter, Gaheris, Lion, Chase, and Stardancer sitting perfectly still in a line on the floor.

“Chase!” Percival called and launched a cracker.

Chase opened his mouth, caught it, and swallowed it.

“Is it good for him to be taking in that much air?” Gareth asked.

“I have no idea,” Percival admitted, “Gaheris!”

“I both love and hate that I have to wait my turn,” Gaheris noted, resulting in the cracker missing. Stardancer got out of line to lick it off the floor. Gaheris made a frustrated noise but didn't try to beat her to it.

Gareth laughed, a loud thing that drew curious onlookers.

“Are you all...” Yvain looked down the line, “Who's performing best?”

“So far not Gaheris,” Gareth managed to say, “Star seems to be playing by her own rules.

“Speaking of rules,” Dinadan said from one of the couches, “did Mordred ever say when he planned on calling us all together? I know he said tonight but like, when tonight?”

“Given the amount of people who've gone back to work, probably around seven,” Gareth guessed.

“Balancing work with...whatever this is,” Yvain shook his head, “It's a shame bills don't stop for what is increasingly looking like some sort of cross-dimension apocalypse.”

“I hate that those words sound right,” Gareth's laughter died in his throat.

“Where is Mordred?” Percival asked.

“Sleeping,” Yvain said.

“Oh good,” Gareth was relieved, “It's so weird to feel a sense of normalcy creeping in, but I've noticed everyone's, well, definitely settling into a routine.”

“Even in War, routine is needed,” Percival said, “Routine can make a lot of difference, really.”

“I forget sometimes you've been to war,” Gaheris told him.

“I wish I knew if it was going to do me any good, the experience,” Percival tossed another cracker absently. It hit Chase on the nose but was gone before it hit the floor. “Even if sixth century tactics were any good against whatever we're facing, I just don't have the leg for it. I'd be a liability.”

“Hey now,” Dinadan called from the couch again, “just because you're not the same as when you started this doesn't mean you can't be a part of this like you want to.”

“You seem sure of yourself,” Percival didn't hear how defensive he got so quickly.

“Oh please,” Dinadan made a pained sound as he stood up, feet screaming, “I remember you, Sir Percival. Everything about your circumstances should have set you up for failure, but you took one look at what you wanted for your life and said _damn the circumstances._ That was what made you a Knight. Not your ability, certainly not your blood, not any prophecy. It was your grit. Now, tell me, what's change so much that you're ready to call it quits instead of adapt.”

“I,” Percival stammered, “can I answer that later?”

“You can answer it when you're ready,” Dinadan told him, “but I recommend you don't put it off indefinitely.”

Percival nodded while everyone else stared at Dinadan.

–

Percival sat in on the pre-meeting War Room chat.

“It's all just so fucked up,” Galahad put his head on the table, “and the best answer we have to the driving force is _magic_.”

_”There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are drempt of in your philosophies,”_ Dinadan decided quoting _Hamlet_ would be easier than finding new words, “and more than that, it's specifically two types of magic pitting themselves against each other and we're caught up in the middle.”

“Say it like that and it sounds like we have no idea which side we're on,” Bors frowned.

“We're on the side not trying to quite literally burn us down,” Dinadan pointed out, “or otherwise kill us. What was it, Camelot must fall, Camelot's time to fall, something like that? It's Camelot, specifically, they're after, and by proxy us.”

“The thing Morgan said,” Bors interrupted, “about Olympus falling. And also rules being pulled back. If we can trace the rules and their enforcers back to their source, we may be able to get some questions answered. Undoubtedly also leave with more questions than we showed up with, but that is the nature of answers.”

Mordred sighed and joined Galahad in resting his head on the table. “There's going to be three gods at tonight's meeting,” he said, “at least. We can ask them if that's even an option before we direct too much energy at it, but yes. At at least one point during...this...I am fully expecting to leave Earth for another world entirely, but I don't think it's going to be on Avalon.”

“Why not?” Percival asked.

“War was declared _in_ Avalon, but Morgause wasn't of Avalon,” Mordred explained, “Who or what ever got her involved could also have been of another world. Gawain was able to recognize an in-between realm during the first battle, which tells me they're not all directly connected to Earth, either.”

“Good question, though,” Dinadan complimented Percival, “We really don't get a lot of why and why nots around the table.”

“Perhaps we should,” Mordred picked his head up to look at Percival, “how do you feel about being our dissenter?”

“Your what?” Percival asked.

“Dissenter,” Mordred repeated, “Having it be your job to question our decisions and our line of thinking.”

“Uh,” Percival looked from Mordred to Bors to Dinadan, then back to Bors, then back to Mordred, “let me think about it?”

Mordred nodded. Bors looked proud. Dinadan looked pleased.

–

“Proposal,” Galahad said as he flopped down on the bed next to Mordred, “we move meetings to Friday and Saturday nights unless it's urgent.”

“You keep opening your suggestions like that and one day my heart's just going to stop working,” Mordred informed him, “but yes. I'd like to get to bed before five in the morning on a meeting night at least once.”

Galahad made a sound caught between a laugh and a groan.

They hadn't gotten much done – they'd established they have no idea how to make things feel like they have more of a chance to win, agreed that as long as any ventures were for information rather than fighting the groups sent should be few in number and light on their feet, and they bickered about the importance of understanding where the threat came from.

Beyond that, it had been near ten hours of talking in circles.

“Arthur made it look less like herding cats,” Mordred complained, “I miss him.”

“Me, too,” Galahad admitted.

“I'm never going to be him,” Mordred toed off his socks.

“Just be Mordred,” Galahad suggested.

Mordred realized he had no idea how to do that and be King at the same time.

The learning curve was turning out to be much, much steeper than he'd expected.


	4. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask the right questions, get the right answers, feel regret seep into your very soul.

Lugh arrived with Mabon and The Morrigan in tow.

“More friends of your?” Gawain whispered to Bertilak.

“If you're using a very, very loose definition of friend,” Bertilak told him. Gawain felt a cold shiver run through them.

Morgan was, quite suddenly, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“I heard there was a War Council tonight,” she said without preamble, “also, Viviane is alive. Wounded, exhausted, and unable to access most of her magics, but alive.”

“You could bring her here,” Galehaut suggested.

“I'll see,” Morgan dismissed him.

“There's a gods-keep-showing-up council,” Mordred said from the living room, “if it turns into a War Council it won't surprise me.”

“Or me,” Agrivane added.

“Everyone,” Lugh cleared his throat, “at the very least, everyone who doesn't know Mabon and The Morrigan, these are Mabon and The Morrigan.”

“So that's,” Mordred counted on his fingers, “six gods in the house.”

“And somehow they aren't the strongest magic signal,” Galahad was more focused on the notes he'd compiled.

“Chronomancy leaves it mark,” Mabon remarked mildly.

Mordred could feel everyone's eyes on him.

“So, what now?” Percival asked.

“We wait for everyone else to get here,” Mordred said, “and maybe order dinner so we have as much time as possible. Until then, I want everyone to think about what we don't know so we can prioritize questions.”

“I'll get the order started,” Gawain broke the forming tension.

–

“So,” Bors said around a mouthful of food, “we have a Chronomancer King, someone who can read and control minds, a forest god, a sun god, a healer goddess, the god who presides over a number of things including rightful kingship, a goddess of war and sovereignty, a harvest god, someone who can control fire and ice, and...Dinadan and Galahad.”

“Hey!” Galahad more squeaked than snapped.

“You said you can direct magics,” Mabon was looking just past Galahad instead of at him, “if you want to know more about them, show us.”

“Uh,” Galahad looked around the room, “Kay, can you, uh, I guess freeze my drink and I'll stop it?”

Kay was so, so worried Galahad was going to ask for fire for a moment.

If he never saw fire again, he may yet recover.

“Sure,” Kay loosed a sigh of relief.

“It's like watching nothing,” Gareth said after a long moment.

“You really don't have any magical inclination, do you Gareth?” Morgan asked.

“No?” Gareth tilted his head, “Why?”

“Because this isn't redirection,” Mabon sounded impressed, “this is probability manipulation.”

“Huh,” Galahad lost his focus and his drink froze so quickly the glass shattered, “Fuck, shit sorry.”

“That one was on me,” Kay said as he stood up, “I'll get it.”

“I'm closest to the broom,” Gaheris already had it in hand. Kay tried to grab it but Gaheris was faster in the crowd of the council, “Don't make me throw something.”

Kay grumbled but ceded cleaning duties to Gaheris.

“What about you, Dinadan?” Mabon asked, “What of your magics do you know?”

“There's lights when I sing?” Dinadan wasn't sure, really.

“Could you do it now?” The Morrigan asked.

“I don't know,” Dinadan shook his head, “It's a little...much, right now. Can't say I've tried singing in the middle of a war room before.”

“Huh,” Lancelot realized Dinadan had never sung around the Table the first life.

“And, Kay, yours are fire and ice, not temperature control?” Lugh asked.

“Correct,” Kay confirmed, “though you'll have to forgive me if I insist you take my word on it rather than set anything on fire.”

“Morgan,” Lugh turned to the once-human, “were there any other siblings through Uther who haven't shown up?”

“Just Ana,” Morgan frowned, “I never really knew her before she was shipped off to be married for an alliance.”

“Ana?” Mabon asked.

“Ana,” Morgan nodded, “Why?”

“Will you all excuse me for a moment?” The Morrigan asked and then disappeared before anyone answered.

“I doubt I'll ever get used to that,” Lionel said mildly, “Anyways, yes, those are the magics we have.”

“And we know we're up against something that corrupts magics until it can turn it for its own benefit,” Mordred added, “but it seems more intent on taking out Camelot than it does on our magics.”

“Makes sense,” Mabon crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, “Camelot falls and it all goes to shit.”

“What?” Mordred lost his ability to keep control of himself, “What does that even mean?”

Before Mabon could answer, The Morrigan reappeared.

“So your sister was Danu,” she said without preamble or checking to see if she'd interrupted anything, “who, on occasion, goes by Ana.”

“Well fuck me,” Galehaut whistled, “Is there some sort of vested interest the gods have in Camelot.”

The gods, Gawain included, exchanged nervous glances.

“Gawain,” Agrivane decided to address his brother directly, “what do we not know?”

“So,” Gawain looked around before ducking his head, “for hundreds of years before, well, our first time around, the entire Pendragon bloodline swore itself to guarding the last doorway between this world and other worlds which would see the entire planet turned into their personal playground.”

Silence.

“This would have been handy to know earlier,” Mordred sank back into his chair.

“Not all the rules are off,” Gawain still had his head ducked.

“You asked the right question to the right god,” Bors guessed. Gawain nodded.

“So this doorway,” Galahad resisted the urge to put his head on the table in a surrendering gesture until he could better string thoughts together, “if we can keep it closed, we can end this?”

“No quite,” The Morrigan told him, “If you can find a way to keep it closed, you cut Earth off the rest of the universe.”

“So the War would rage on, but elsewhere,” Elyan concluded.

“This isn't a War Earth _could_ fight,” Agrivane realized, “I doubt a hydrogen bomb could take out magic and gods.”

The gods' silence was worse than a confirmation.

“So we find the door,” Mordred rose to his feet, “and we do whatever we must to close it.”


	5. The Best of Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gawain has an idea and nobody objects.

It had seemed like a good idea when Gawain had suggested it, having those with magics scatter across realms to see if they could find anything that might lead them to the doorway they needed. So much of a good idea that everyone with magics agreed to it.

“We can send you where you need to go,” Lugh said, “It will be more direct and more harsh that stepping through a portal, but it will be faster.”

“And if something goes wrong we _will_ be able to pull you back,” The Morrigan assured them.

“Ready?” Lugh was asking both the humans and gods.

“No,” Mordred sighed, “but that's not going to stop us.”

The gods exchanged a look and sent everyone on their way.

–

“I'd like to file a complaint,” Dinadan said as he tried to force himself off the ground.

“Yeah well, get in line,” Ragnelle told him as she hoisted him to his feet. He hissed through the pain and forced his knees to lock in an attempt to stay upright.

“Where are we?” Dinadan looked around.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she shook her head.

It seemed like a less good idea, now, stranded somewhere. 

At least he had Ragnelle to keep him company.

“You have magics?” he asked.

“You learn something new every day,” she shrugged.

–

“A baby and a dog,” Gawain was panicking, “A baby. And a dog. In a strange world. With me.”

He was bouncing Ingrid on his hip while Lion trotted a circle around them, head in the air. Ingrid was sniffing and clinging to him, asking over and over to go home.

“A magic baby. And a magic dog,” Gawain realized, “Magic. Baby.”

Lion barked once.

“Okay boy,” Gawain was desperate, “show me the way.”

Lion took off, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Gawain was, indeed, following.

–

“Fuck,” Kay was taking cover under what he only assumed was stronger than concrete, given that it was holding up under the debris that kept falling, “fuck fucking shit. Of course I get the world in the middle of an active war.”

It looked like Earth, at least as much as a city looked like another city.

There were people next to him, their eyes too dark and fingers too long to really be people like he was.

“We got ourselves a Pendragon!” he recognized the words despite the inhuman underpinning. It was as if he was listening to a recording played over scratches on a record, he realized.

“We may yet win this,” another one said. Kay felt those he was sheltering with closing in on him.

“Where am I?” Kay asked.

“Oh sweet summer child,” the one closest to him ran a finger down his cheek, “you're in the Seelie Court now.

“...right,” was the last thing Kay remembered thinking before the edges of his vision began to blacken.

–

“You have magic?” Lancelot asked Agrivane.

“Not as far as I know!” Agrivane had surpassed panic and gone straight for...whatever was next, “Where _are_ we?”

“Somewhere we can still breathe the air,” Lancelot pointed out, “but uh. Beyond that? No idea.”

“We need to get back,” Agrivane was looking for something that resembled a door, “Could it be because I'm champion that I got lumped in with the magic-havers?”

“Again, no idea,” Lancelot grimaced, “Start walking and hope we can find something?”

“I have no better plan,” Agrivane agreed.

–

“Vegas?” Galahad looked around, “Really?”

He was, if he was being honest with himself, a little disappointed to find himself transported to _work._

The beauty of a place like Vegas, though, was that he could just appear in the middle of a crowd and nobody took any notice.

“Probability manipulation,” he said under his breath, “alright, let's see what I need to do.”

–

Bors and Mordred stared at each other for a long while, each trying to figure out what to do, what to say, where they were.

“Well this is interesting,” Bors finally said something.

“The air's...sticky,” Mordred cringed, “I wonder how many others who had no idea they have magics are in strange worlds.”

“Can you imagine finding out alone?” Bors frowned.

“No,” Mordred stood up as straight as he could and looked around, “let's see if we can find some high ground and go from there?”

–

Palamedes startled when he felt something on his shoulder. His first instinct was to elbow in the general direction and ask questions later.

He hit nothing.

“What the,,?” he looked around.

“Good Sir Knight,” Arthur's ghost told him, “you are far, far away from where you're supposed to be.”


	6. Scattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has things to do before they can go home and no one is terribly thrilled about it.

–

“We're missing a few people,” Gareth noted as he looked around the room.

“Including my daughter,” Tristan's eyes went wide with horror. Isolde gripped his hand so hard her knuckles turned white.

“And a dog,” Yvain added, “which, probably with Ingrid.”

“Whoops,” Bertilak hadn't taken into consideration that _with magics_ didn't specify latent or active.

“Should I have suggested not doing this?” Percival asked, unsure if he'd already failed his role of dissenter.

Elyan put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Percival's shoulder.

–

Kay came to in a pristine room with high white walls and unbroken golden beams that came together at a point. The very tip of the room was a series of clear glass windows that allowed the entire room to be illuminated.

He felt his hand complain as he tried to use it to brace himself, new bandages tugging at his skin as he moved. There was a small bloom of blood showing through the bandages on the back of his hand.

“Oh, good, you are awake,” he heard someone with a much clearer voice tell him, “My name is Oberon.”

“The King,” Kay realized.

“In every story there is a Truth that inspired it,” Oberon nodded, “I would apologize for what we had to do if I had any regret for it.”

“What happened?” Kay asked, then added “to me, specifically.'

“Your blood will help us win this War,” Oberon told him, “and preserve my Kingdom.”

The thought that he would always be of some use or another to a King settled into Kay's mind.

Better him than Mordred, he supposed.

“You wish to go home,” Oberon continued, “As thanks, I offer this with a caution to not open it until your end goal is in sight.” Oberon held out a small pouch, tied with what looked like a leather string.

“Uh,” Kay took it, “thanks?”

“May luck cover what skill cannot, young Pendragon,” Oberon offered Kay the smallest of bows, barely more than a nod, but Kay recognized the meaning and impact behind it, “Go Home.”

–

Lion came to a halt at the entrance to a cave, waited for Gawain to catch up, and then pressed on. Ingrid had cried until she fell asleep and, quite frankly, Gawain didn't blame her.

“Where are we going boy?” Gawain asked Lion.

Lion barked twice, short sounds that echoed off the cave walls.

“I wish I spoke dog,” Gawain muttered, most of his attention focused on not slipping in the increasing darkness.

–

Galahad had, of course, landed in the lobby of The Excalibur.

He played a small handful of rounds before he decided to start booking a plane back to San Francisco. He'd won faster, as he focused on the cards, and started wondering how much of his prowess was card counting and how much was probability manipulation.

Given that his wallet was in his back pocket when he was sure he'd left it on his dad's kitchen table, probably a little less from option A and a little more from option B.

He stopped to get a snowglobe of what was supposed to be the sword in the stone – which was never Excalibur, but hey, people didn't come here because they were looking for historical accuracy.

“Oi,” Bertilak appeared beside him, “Do you think you honestly have time to go through two airports?”

Before Galahad could reply, he was yanked back to his fathers' kitchen.

–

“Oh!” Ragnelle's eyes went wide, “I know this place!”

“Good?” Dinadan wasn't sure.

“This is where I'm from,” she told him, “The absolute first time.”

“Where you were cursed to live as a human,” Dinadan could feel the rest of her sentence before it was formed.

“...how did you..?” she narrowed her eyes and looked at him.

“I felt it?” Dinadan tried to explain.

“Well,” she wasn't sure what to make of that, “yes, this is where I was born.”

“How worried should I be?” Dinadan asked.

“It's...” she looked around, “something's wrong.”

_Something's been wrong,_ Dinadan thought.

“Well,” he sighed, “let's go find out.”

He let Ragnelle pick the direction they started off in.

–

Agrivane was the first to realize they were back at Camlann, the evening before the battle.

“Fuck,” Lancelot's face fell.

This is that killing your own grandfather logic puzzle,” Agrivane declared.

“What?” Lancelot dropped his voice to a whisper, “The puzzle is about being your own grandfather, not killing him!”

“I think we learned to entirely different puzzles,” Agrivane followed Lancelot's lead on pitch and tone, “Either way, I have a strange feeling it all boils down to _don't fuck with history too badly if you don't have to._ ”

“I don't disagree,” Lancelot wasn't sure what he agreed with, but it might be that.

“Go steal some armor, walk around, and see what we can find?” Agrivane suggested.

“Perfect.” Now, that was a plan Lancelot could agree with.

–

Mordred and Bors felt themselves being pulled into a narrow alleyway between what they had thought were abandoned buildings.

“What are you doing here?” Vivian hissed, “Avalon isn't safe for you right now!”

Bors explained the entire scenario.

“It's worse than I thought, then,” Viviane's face fell, “You're in Avalon.”

“This is not what I expected,” Bors admitted.

“This is not what it's normally like,” Viviane told them, “The moment War was declared, everything changed. **Everything.**.”

“Is there a reason we'd wind up here?” Mordred asked her.

“If you're going to take down the door,” Viviane said slowly, “you're going to need some help.”

–

Ragnelle and Dinadan found a village in ruins.

“Oh no,” Ragnelle felt her stomach doing flips.

“It looks like War has already been here,” Dinadan put a hand on her back, “shit.”

“More than that,” her hands made their way to cover her mouth and chin, fingers coming to a point just under her nose, “it can just rip through magical wards like they're nothing. No right questions, no careful undoing of whatever's holding them in place. Just. Destroyed.”

“That's horrifying,” Dinadan shivered, “How long do you think it's been since whoever did this passed through?”

“Long enough the wood's started to rot,” Ragnelle told him, “not that that helps much.”

“I'm going to go see if I can find anything,” Dinadan told her.

She nodded and followed him the rest of the way to the ruins.

–

Lancelot saw it first: an outline, more shadow than anything else, there and then gone again faster than he could blink.

He told Agrivane what he saw.

“We should see if we can follow it,” Agrivane suggested.

“Follow something that can teleport or otherwise disappear?” Lancelot asked.

“Not the weirdest thing I've said recently,” Agrivane shrugged.

And so they tried.

–

Gawain slipped in the darkness, landing wrong on his hip to keep Ingrid from crashing into the ground. The rocks were a bit wetter than just damp – he kept sliding down the slope after impact. Lion tried to brace himself to stop their decent. It was no use – the three of them just kept slipping until they hit something.

“Shit,” Gawain hissed. Ingrid let out a scared sound that hinted the next sound may be her crying. “Hey, hey kiddo, it's okay, we're alright, yeah?”

Gawain knew that, at the very least, Ingrid was alright. He knew he was going to be all kinds of scraped and bruised. He had no idea how Lion was.

The dog was the first to untangle himself from the impact point, wrenching himself free and then standing so close that Gawain could feel his breath.

“Hey, kiddo,” Gawain suggested, “how 'bout you hang on to Lion real tight so I can get up, eh?”

“Lion?” Ingrid muttered.

“Yeah, Lion,” Gawain could feel the dog move closer. Ingrid released her vice-like grip on Gawain to grab onto the dog. Gawain hoped she grabbed his collar. And not his fur, but Lion made no noise either way.

Gawain lifted himself using whatever he had landed against. He initially suspected it was a rock, but he found it had more of a woody texture.

“Roots?” he guessed.

Lion made a small growling sound. Gawain scooped up Ingrid on instinct.

“Be at ease,” a gentle voice came from too close for Gawain's liking.

Lion moved to keep Ingrid – and by proxy Gawain – between the roots and himself.

–

“That him?” Agrivane nudged Lancelot. And gestured with a nod of his head.

“Fuck,” Lancelot's eyes went wide, “yeah. It is.”

“Looks like he's trying to get into the main war camp,” Agrivane guessed.

“No good for any of us if he is,” Lancelot's voice dropped even lower, “and even less good if we get caught.”

“Arthur set up all of his war camps in the same way,” Agrivane pointed out, “if he knows the way in without raising an alarm, he's either one of ours or has been studying Camelot for a while.”

“Thing we can follow without being noticed?” Lancelot asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Agrivane was looking more at the war camp than the stranger they were supposed to follow.

–

Dinadan was the first to find a body – partly skeletonized where the air had gotten to it and otherwise in a gray state of rot. 

“It's been a while,” Dinadan declared.

“This can't be helpful to anyone,” Ragnelle pulled her arms around her, “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Dinadan tried to sound comforting, “I know.”

“What now?” she asked.

“How do you feel about searching the ruins for anything we may want to take to our own battle?”

Ragnelle shook her head. “If it didn't help them, it won't help us.”

Dinadan didn't quite agree, but this was not the land that spit him out.

–

“No closer,” Gawain warned.

“Or what?” the voice was still gentle, but highly amused, “you'll sic your dog on me?”

A small touch-like light filtered into the cavern. Gawain took a fraction of a second to look around and, yep, he was backed up against a giant knot of roots in a very dark, very high-ceiling cave.

Ingrid took one look at the flame and started screaming. It had, by Gawain's estimate, been at most two months since the last fire she saw.

Gawain finally took in the newcomer and realized there were three of them – a woman, a wolf, and an ever bigger wolf that looked like it could sneeze and flip a car.

“Hey, kiddo, look,” Gawain tried to distract her, “Another doggy?”

The woman chuckled. “Did you hear that, Fen? You've been downgraded to doggy.”

“As long as the downgrade doesn't result in being chained up again I think I'll live,” the giant wolf said.

“Fen as in Fenrir?” Gawain squeaked and held Ingrid tighter.

“Smarter than he looks,” Fenrir appraised.

“Now come,” the woman beckoned, “we have much to discuss and not much time.”

“Lion, I'm following your lead,” Gawain told the dog.

Lion hesitated a few beats before trotting off after them.

–

Agrivane saw smoke starting to swirl around their target, panicked, picked up the nearest weapon – a sword – and hurled it at their target.

It struck him in the spine. 

He was dead before he hit the ground.

“If only I threw darts like that,” Agrivane muttered as he broke into a run. Lancelot went as fast as he could.

Agrivane removed the sword and chucked it aside before searching the dead man for anything that might help them understand what was going on.

“Holy fuck that was a shot,” Lancelot said as he caught up, “The smoke's getting thicker.”

“And he is, quite literally, disappearing,” Agrivane pointed out. He found the man's – Was he a man? - belt pouch and ripped it off the corpse before it disappeared.

“Okay,” Agrivane felt off-kilter as he got back on his feet, “that's enough adventure for one day and I'm ready to go home.”

“While I agree entirely, I'm not sure, oh,” Lancelot looked just past Agrivane, who took that is his cue to turn around, “Mabon!”

“What the hell kids? Do you know how long it took to find you!?” he asked, “No, explain it once everyone's back.”

Agrivane didn't think he'd ever get used to traveling by portal, and even less sure the sensation of being ripped body and soul across time and space would even feel anything but horrible.

He held tight to the belt pouch just in case it would still prove useful.

–

Viviane sent Bors and Mordred back with a single, impossibly small vial and her best wishes.

“None of this makes any sense,” Mordred muttered as Izz and Bedivere helped him back to his feet.

–

“So,” Gawain wanted to make sure he was understanding everything correctly, “I let someone else's child try to remove the last of the binding chain from your brother's paw and we can be on our way?”

“Well, almost,” Hel told him, “I will also need you to burn the roots down on your way out.”

“Of the world tree?” Gawain didn't like the sound of that.

“Unless you want Ragnarok to come to your world,” Hel raised her eyebrow on the living half of her face.

“That just makes it sound like there's no way around Ragnarok,” Gawain frowned.

Hel pushed a plate of fruits towards him. “Snack?” she offered.

“Sure,” Gawain relaxed his grip on Ingrid to lean forward. Ingrid slipped onto the floor and started toddling towards where Lion, Garmr, and Fenrir were playing. She flopped down next to Lion and giggled.

“Ah shit,” Gawain wasn't sure if he should retrieve her, or if the dog and wolves would _let_ him retrieve her at this point, “How are small children so fast?”

“They won't hurt her,” Hel assured him, “Especially not with that temple dog as her guardian.”

“Temple dog?” Gawain nearly choked on the fruit he's just put in his mouth, “I thought he was a Tibetan Mastiff?”

“He looks like one,” Hel laughed, “but no, he is much, much older and, well, much harder to find.”

“What the hell was a temple dog doing in the woods in Oregon?” Gawain asked, more of a rhetorical question, “And what is it doing here?”

“For a god you're a bit daft,” there was no heat in Hel's words, “Why would a guardian spirit _not_ find a way to protect a fledgling goddess?”

“But he came before she was even conceived,” Gawain 's jaw was hanging open.

“Some points are fixed,” Hel told him, “and some spirits and gods can feel them and get themselves into position well before the actual event.”

“And the rest of the points?” Gawain asked.

“That's where choice comes into play,” Hel said effortlessly.

A sharp squeal of a giggle pulled everyone;s attention towards the dogs and child-goddess.

Ingrid held a red ribbon aloft, clenched in her tiny fist.

“You must run,” Hel told them, “Go, quickly, before you're trapped here when the first battle starts.”

Gawain hesitated. 

“Send them home,” Gawain told her, “I have some roots to burn down first.”

Hel smiled, a fond, relieved thing. “You will always do the right thing when it comes down to the wire.”

–

Dinadan found a really nice-looking cup in one of the piles of rubble and gave it a few tugs. It came loose, but sent the rest of the pile crashing down. He jumped back a few times to avoid any of it landing on his feet.

“One day my feet will just quit on me,” Dinadan hissed.

“Shit, you've been walking in bare feet on your, well, your really fucked-up feet,” Ragnelle realized, “Why didn't you say anything?”

“What good would that have done?” Dinadan asked, “Also, look what I found! Isn't it neat?”

“You,” Ragnelle squinted, “oh holy fuck Din, what have you done.”

Before Dinadan could even consider how to answer a question like that, Lugh appeared almost next to Ragnelle.

“How the fuck did you two wind up here?” Lugh asked Dinadan and Ragnelle.

“You're one of the ones who sent us out!” Dinadan didn't miss a moment.

“This is bad,” Lugh looked around.

“No shit,” Ragnelle sniffed, “Can we just go home now?”

“Yes,” Lugh assured them, “Uh. But first. Dinadan. What are you doing with the Grail?”

“Uh,” Dinadan blinked a few times before looking at the cup in his hand, “It looked cool?”

“Oh my fuck,” Lugh muttered, “Send them to one forbidden realm by accident and the bard finds the Grail.”

“I heard that!” Dinadan pretended to actually be offended.

“Good, your ears work,” Lugh sighed, “Now come on, let's get you two home before you find Pandora's Box or something.”

–

Palamedes landed on his feet at a crouch, fingertips brushing the floor and Guinevere's crown clutched in his other hand.

She'd given it to him so that he may have something as proof that everything had happened.

Everyone else was already waiting in the dining room, so clearly distraught and varying degrees of panic.

“Where were you?” Dinadan tried to stand up but his feet protested almost immediately, sending him to the floor. Palamedes went to Dinadan first.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I should be asking you!” Dinadan leaned into him, “Scared me.”

“I am sorry,” Palamedes said as he helped Dinadan back in his chair.

“You're here,” Dinadan was gripping Palamedes' wrist like a vice.

“You have magics?” Mordred asked.

“Apparently,” Palamedes stood behind Dinadan's chair and placed Guinevere's crown on the table, “I have returned from where Arthur and Guinevere guard the final door.”


	7. Take the Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have one chance to get this right. It's that or lose the planet.
> 
> No pressure or anything.

Mordred pinched the bridge of his nose like it would help stem his oncoming headache.

“So let me make sure I have all the key details,” Mordred didn't want to look at anyone. He didn't want to see what their faces held, “In no particular order: Ingrid kicked off Ragnarok and is also a brand-new goddess, Gawain set fire to the World Tree, Kay had some of his blood stolen to help end the war between the fae folk courts and was given a bag of something he's been cautioned not to open until the end is in sight, whatever that means, Lancelot and Agrivane got transported through both time and space to kill someone who dissolved into smoke and brought back a bag of unknown articles, Lion is actually a temple guardian, Bors and I brought back the divine equivalent of napalm, Dinadan brought back the fucking Grail, Galahad went to Vegas, and Palamedes,” Mordred took a breath, “is both a necromancer and can show up where the final door is in this realm.”

“You're not going to like it,” Palamedes cautioned.

“Galahad set up a flare that may buy is some time,” Morgan explained, “but yes, the rest of is sounds right.”

“Where's the door?” Mordred asked.

“Camelot,” Palamedes said.

“Camelot?” Mordred echoed at the same time Lancelot slammed his hand on the table.

“What do we have to do tot he hotel?” Lancelot asked.

“Well,” Palamedes managed to meet Lancelot's eyes, “we're going to have to start by pulling the fire alarm to evacuate it.”

–

“This will cut Earth off from almost every magic as well,” Morgan warned.

“I saw what these forces do,” Dinadan was more than willing to stand in opposition to anyone who said no, “This planet wouldn't stand a _chance_.”

“What would that mean for us, specifically?” Percival hoped it was the right question.

“It means the gods and spirits currently here will be trapped here,” Mabon explained, “and anyone – god, spirit, fae folk, human – who draws their magic from another world will be cut off.”

“Seems like a small price to save an entire planet,” Lionel argued.

“We've done what the gods couldn't do before,” Mordred looked around the room, “and will do it again. This is our world, and I would very much like to keep living here.”

A murmur of agreement stopped any further points against going through with their plan before they got off the ground.

–

Agrivane, Lancelot, Galehaut, Kay, Dinadan, and Bors had decided they'd go. They were, they figured, a small and for the most part magically inclined enough group that they wouldn't have to worry too much about getting back out again.

“Your feet,” Palamedes tried to point out Dinadan had some things to worry about.

“Grail,” Dinadan held it aloft, and that was the end of that.

Mordred and Galahad tried to go, but the entire group shut them down. They needed their King, they argued, and a King needs his, well, Mordred needed Galahad.

Mordred pulled Agrivane aside to inform him that if he didn't come back he'd find his body, have Palalmedes revive him, and then kill him again himself.

Agrivane had already given the dead man's satchel to Kay for safe keeping. 

He didn't promise Mordred anything, but wished so badly that he could.

–

Bertilak agreed to wait at the coffee shop next door until he could feel the door collapse before ripping them through space to get them to safety.

Bors pulled the fire alarm while everyone else crammed themselves in Galehaut's office.

“So what ARE your magics?” Agrivane asked as soon as Bors was in the office with them.

“No idea,” Bors shrugged, “it almost seems I do not have any.”

“That makes no sense,” Kay was loud enough to be heard over the alarm.

“None of this makes sense,” Dinadan argued, “but it all feels right.”

“So,” Agrivane kept everyone focused, “we wait until we've seen everyone leave thanks to there handy little monitors, cut the feeds, then go blow this thing to hell.”

“When we were told all our magics coming together this was NOT what I had in mind,” Lancelot mentioned.

“I don't think any of us had this in mind!” Galehaut agreed.

They waited in silence after that, eyes glued to the screens while Galehaut checked the roster of bookings against the number of people leaving the hotel.

“Alright,” Galehaut put the list down, “let's do this.” He cut the feed, then the power to the entire hotel.

Kay left the office at a run, setting small fires to every bit of wood he could find – doors, support beams – and trusted the others to do their part by the time he finished his lap around the the bottom floor.

Dinadan used the grail as a doorstop.

Bors poured the vial Viviane had given them so, so carefully into the grail.

Kay came back almost as soon as he was done.

“We don't have much time!” Kay had to roar to be heard, “Are we ready?”

Bors ran away from the grail and flashed Kay a thumbs-up.

Kay had greatly, greatly under-estimated the power of napalm, nonetheless magical napalm.

Everyone was thrown back by the force of the explosion.

Kay wondered, almost idly, if he was going to just periodically have his own magics nearly kill him periodically for the rest of his life.

No sign of Bertilak.

Kay grabbed the bag he'd been given and the bag Agrivane had entrusted him with and dumped their contents on the floor.

A round, amber-ish stone rolled out of the packet Oberon had given him and a few chunks of what looked like compressed powder tumbled out of the other bag.

“What?” Kay asked himself.

Agrivane was next to him, so suddenly, hauling Kay to his feet and coughing so badly Kay wondered how he was still breathing. Kay grabbed the stone and as much of the powder as he could and jumped back to his feet.

They found Bors, then Lancelot, then Dinadan, then Galehaut. They all formed as tight of a circle as they could to minimize the fire Kay had to control.

“The doorway must not be shut!” Lancelot was yelling but still barely audible, “We're going to have to try again!”

“All we have left are these,” Kay opened his palm, “and I don't even know what they are!”

“Well,” Lancelot looked between the things Kay was holding out and the door that should have been destroyed, “there's only one way to find out if they work.”

Lancelot swiped them from Kay's hand and took a few leaping steps towards the office, his leg screaming with every movement.

Agrivane, Kay, and Dinadan felt rooted where they stood.

“Fucking Lancelot,” Kay growled, “Arthur isn't around so your promise to him is null and void?”

The Grail, Lancelot noticed, was still functioning as a doorstop.

He tried to wedge the door open so he could kick the grail out of the way.

He dropped the stone.

Galehaut was behind him in a heartbeat, trying to pry him away from the door.

The stone shattered, a thick, gray mist mingling with fire and smoke.

“My Champion,” Arthur's voice came from the mists, “What have you done?”

“What you and Jenny told Palamedes needed to be done!” Lancelot was still trying to pry the door open.

“The powder,” Arthur told them, “lets you jump between realms.”

“That seems like the opposite of what we're trying to do,” Galehaut grunted as he gave the door another tug.

“Unless,” Lancelot stopped fighting with the door, “unless the doorway also needs to be destroyed from the other side.”

He took the sudden disappearance of the mists to mean he was right.

Lancelot began to break up the powder, too focused on preserving as much as he could to stop Galehaut from swiping some from him.

“Gale!” Lancelot froze.

“If you think I'm letting you go in there alone I have some questions about our entire relationship,” Galehaut told him.

Galehaut grabbed Lancelot's hand and held tight.

–

Bertilak did a head count as soon as he was back in the Du Lac kitchen.

“Shit,” he hissed.

“No,” Galahad froze in the dining room doorway, “No.”

“I'm sorry,” Kay was on his knees, exhaustion and grief and a sudden loss of his ability to reach his magics flooding him, “It should have been me.”


	8. Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath is a hell of a thing.

Dinadan was leaning on what little railing had even been replaced on the back deck, watching the sun rise.

“It's almost unfair,” Palamedes' footfalls were quiet behind him, “how beautiful the sky is.”

“It could have been any of us,” Dinadan sighed, “He was in my fucking head. I didn't get the _chance_ to make a choice.”

“I hate how everything lined up,” Palamedes said, “May I just kind of hold you while we watch the day begin?”

“Please,” Dinadan closed his eyes for a moment as he let Palamedes' weight and gentle pressure push out the rest of his thoughts.

–

Galahad fell asleep on the couch, crying against Kay's shoulder, being told over and over again his father should still be here.

Mordred stayed up through the night keeping watch.

“I like none of this,” Agrivane told him as he made his way up the basement stairs, “but we did it. We saved the world. I wish it felt even a touch better.”

“I know,” Mordred sighed, “I know.”

–

Everyone reconvened at the table, one and two at a time, as the morning dragged on. Kay was one of the last to join everyone, one of the last to drag himself off the couch, and even then it had been at Bedivere's unrelenting insistence.

“Don't,” Agrivane said to Kay as soon as Kay and Bedivere joined everyone, “There isn't a single one of us who wouldn't have at least liked to make that choice. I know you're grieving, but please. Don't.”

Kay nodded.

“I'm not really going to press anyone for information,” Mordred looked around, took in the haunted exhaustion on everyone's faces, “but if anyone has anything they wish to mention now rather than later, I will keep the conversation open.”

He knew he had to take the lead, had to keep everyone going despite his own desire to hide away and just hold Galahad and let him mourn the loss of his fathers.

Being a King was just fucking awful.

But Camelot still stood.

–

By the end of the week all Mordred had gotten was that Gawain, Bertilak, Mabon, Lugh, The Morrigan, and Morgan were trapped on earth, Kay couldn't reach his magics – Bedivere was more convinced that was rooted in grief, and, really, only the gods could call on their magics, leaving everyone else...so human it was frightening.

Mordred had never really managed to reach his own magics outside of a panic.

He watched Galahad sleep next to him, face down, rib cage rising and falling.

Galehaut's choice made sense to him.

–

It was a Sunday when Galahad found his fathers' will.

Everything had been left to him and Mordred.

–

“Everything about this is awful,” Galahad said as soon as they left a meeting with the lawyers and insurance people.

“I know, love,” Mordred wrapped an arm around Galahad's waist and pulled him in close as they walked to the elevator, “I know.”

–

It took almost a year to have the energy to get the house ready to sell.

“I just can't do it,” Galahad said, “I can't live there.”

“I know, love,” Mordred had agreed.

The house was on the market for less than a week.

–

Gaheris took over the winery but there was so little joy in running it that when Agrivane asked if he wanted to find other people to run it and just oversee the major decisions, his only follow-up had been asking why he hadn't thought of that sooner.

He moved back in with Agrivane and Lamorak almost immediately.

–

“Say,” Agrivane started asking as he handed Lamorak a freshly peeled carrot, “how would you feel about hosting a game night for everyone, here?”

Lamorak realized it had been over half a year since the last Camelot game night.

“I think it would be a brilliant idea,” Lamorak leaned over to kiss Agrivane on the temple.

–

Every-player-for-themselves Pictionary had won unanimously.

“Uh,” Yvain was losing and, really, Isolde was the best artist, “Uh, fuck. Tristan, why aren't you saying anything, she's your girlfriend!”

Tristan just grinned.

Isolde kept going over her drawing again.

“OH!” Ellie's face lit up, “WE'RE EXPECTING!”

Isolde's face lit up and she tossed the marker to Ellie.

“That is the most unique baby announcement I have ever seen,” Gawain said. Bertilak elbowed him in the ribs. “Congrats!” Gawain added.

“Oh my god I get to be an uncle twice,” Dinadan was giddy.

–

It was almost natural, Dinadan and Palamedes moving in with Tristan and Isolde on a more full-time rotation as they got ready for their second child and started gearing up for Ingrid to start school.

“I still appreciate both of you so, so deeply,” Tristan told them one morning.

“Glad we can help,” Palamedes was holding a still-mostly-asleep Ingrid while Dinadan was fixing everyone breakfast, “besides, sending her to normal school – private or public – after everything just seems like a bad idea.”

Tristan chuckled but agreed.

–

Kay was the first to go to therapy.

He needed it, he realized, and while he couldn't tell a therapist all the details, he could get the bare bones out in the open and figure out how to shed the worst of it along the way.

“I'm proud of you,” Bedivere told him.

“I miss me,” Kay let his head rest on Bedivere's shoulder.

“You're still here,” Bedivere held him tight, “We're still here.”

–

Galahad rolled over to paw at Mordred's legs.

“Why are you on the floor?” Mordred finally asked.

“Do you think this is enough space for, like, a bunny?” Galahad asked, “I mean, I know we'd have to lose the coffee table, but I think it would be kind of cool.”

“Only kind of?” Mordred put his phone down.

“Okay, really cool,” Galahad more slid up and onto the couch than got up to sit on it, “and I like the idea of having a pet.”

“What if we got a bigger place first?” Mordred suggested.

“How much bigger were you thinking?” Galahad asked.

“Well,” Mordred took Galahad by the hand, “big enough for everyone, really.”

“And a bunny?” Galahad's eyes sparked to life.

“I think bunnies need to be kept with at least one other bunny,” Mordred squeezed Galahad's hand.

–

They knew they'd been left a small fortune, but they hadn't expected it to get them such a low, low mortgage rate.

“The people who think they control the city will do anything to keep people with money happy,” Mordred shook his head, “Move in date in just a week.”

“We'll pack well before then,” Galahad shrugged, “and we can definitely hold space for anyone with a lease they can't end early.”

“I hadn't even thought of that,” Mordred admitted.

“It's so weird,” Galahad looked around at nothing in particular, “how much money they were just   
sitting on and yet they held on to that damned washer until Kay melted it.”

The _all things as they needed to be_ was felt but left unspoken.

–

Palamedes handed Dinadan a guitar case in the middle of loading the moving van.

“What?” Dinadan froze as he held it.

“I miss your voice,” Palamedes told him, “the one that only comes out when you sing. And I am being selfish.”

“You're allowed to be,” Dinadan hugged him before he took the guitar.

–

Kay claimed the bedroom closest to the kitchen before Bedivere vetoed it and dragged him up to the second floor of the mansion.

“Let someone whose legs and/or feet never healed right take the bedrooms on the bottom floor,” Bedivere told him.

“There's, like, five bedrooms on the bottom floor!” Kay protested, “and we're getting old!”

“If we get so old we can't do stairs anymore we can have the kids move our furniture downstairs,” Bedivere promised, “and besides, we're barely over fifty. Also, I'd like just a touch more privacy now that we have more free time.”

“More priv...” Kay froze for a moment, “Yeah, alright, hell, let's go see if the attic has a habitable bedroom.”

Bedivere laughed and continued dragging Kay down the hallway.

–

“What do you need?” Agrivane asked as he watched Kay pull out a bunch of ingredients.

“I need the potatoes washed and chopped into even discs, about a quarter-inch thick,” Kay rattled off, “yellow onions cut into similarly thick half-circles. Carrots, celery, and red onions diced, garlic minced, bacon cut into tiny strips and fried, bread cut into cubes no bigger than than your middle finger nail. I'll start dressing the chickens.”

“You heard the man,” Agrivane called over his shoulder, “Time to get to work!”

Lamorak, Gareth, Lynette, and Izz all started one of the tasks Kay had rattled off.

There was almost – almost – a sense of normalcy as everyone worked together.

–

“Do you think they'll ever get the magic back?” Gawain asked Bertilak while they were weeding the garden.

“I hope so,” Bertilak replied, “It would be nice, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gawain agreed, “I didn't realize how much of a **presence** it was until it was gone.”

“Not did the rest of the gods,” Bertilak said, sadness so loud it was a near-physical presence, “but hopefully the others will learn how to pull from the magics of this world one day.”

–

There was one of the worse storms in recent memory that seemed to be located right over the house. No one was able to sleep through it.

“Uncle Din!” Ingrid tugged at Dinadan's hoodie pocket, “Uncle Din my brother won't stop screaming!”

“Let me go get me guitar,” Dinadan told her, “and I'll be right up, okay?”

“No!” Ingrid told him, “Mommy says you need to be nice to your feet. Uncle Medes will get your guitar and I'll get my brother.”

She was gone again, almost as fast as she arrived.

“I hope she finds _brother_ easier to say than _Amhar_ for the rest of her life,” Palamedes chuckled, “It's so oddly proper.”

Named after the legendary long-lost son or Arthur – man, would Arthur have gotten a kick out of that – Tristan and Isolde's son felt like some sort of promise no one could put their finger on.

“You heard the boss,” Dinadan chuckled, “I have to be nice to my feet so you have to go get my guitar.”

“Like you couldn't have asked,” Palamedes shook his head as he got to his feet. A small smile played across his features.

“Did someone say guitar?” Kay poked his head in from the kitchen where he was stress-cooking to keep his mind off the storm.

“The second-tiniest child demands it,” Dinadan called back.

“Well then you'd better listen,” Kay shook his head and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Palamedes arrived back with the guitar only a few moments before Ingrid arrived with Isolde, Tristan, Lion, and Ahmar in tow.

“Sorry,” Isolde said.

“No worries at all,” Dinadan assured her, “I think everyone's awake anyways.”

Ahmar was screaming at full volume, the thunder and deafening rain too much for him.

“How does a lullaby sound?” Dinadan asked. Ingrid clapped her hands, excited, and climbed into Palamedes' lap to be as close to the music as possible.

“Thank you,” Isolde said.

“Of course,” Dinadan told her, “of course.”

Kay had texted Bedivere to go get the others. 

It was, Kay realized, the first time Dinadan had played his guitar in the main part of the house.

Dinadan began to strum a soft tune, oblivious to the size of his audience gathering in hallways, on walkways, on the staircases.

He began to sing, a low, quiet, steady thing that offered a grounding feeling against the chaos of the storm outside.

It had a near-instant calming effect on the baby, his screaming becoming subdued sniffled and hiccups before he stopped altogether, watching intently.

Ingrid squealed, clapped her hands, and pointed upwards.

Everyone but Dinadan looked at where Ingrid was pointing.

A small cluster of lights were floating in the middle of the room, spreading out and swaying in time to the music.

“Holy shit,” Bors was the first one to string two words together.

“It's...” Bertilak didn't want to say it out loud, didn't want to ruin what was happening.

“It's like coming home all over again,” Mordred finished for them.

Somewhere in the storm, Camelot put its roots down once more.


End file.
